5 Things Your Downstairs Neighbor Wishes They Could Tell You

Ever heard of the phrase, “Love your neighbor as yourself”? I’m a firm believer that no one is fully capable of respectable patience thresholds until they have lived with you as an upstairs neighbor. This may come as a surprise, but you probably aren’t the inaudible angel you thought you were.

This one goes out to all you first-floor residents.

1. Jump squats are for the gym.

I respect you. I really do. Not just anyone has the determination (or desperation?) to hit that workout grind. With that being said, I would like to kindly invite you to hop over to the lovely fitness center conveniently located next to our front lobby. There, I encourage you to do as many jumping jacks and burpees as your heart desires. Interestingly enough, the gym happened to be constructed with a lack of people living below.

2. Holding onto everyday objects is not that difficult.

I’m as human as the next guy. I will admit, I have dropped my hairbrush a time or two and my phone has slipped through my fingers on occasion. I do not understand, however, how books, pans, what sounds like literal bricks make a crash course landing on your floor on a daily basis. The collision between your shampoo bottle and innocent shower floor serves as the drop heard around the world.

3. I Can Recite Your Last Fight with Your Mom.

Is it still considered eavesdropping if I am physically incapable of preventing your late-night phone call conversation from penetrating my eardrums? I’m all for heartfelt talks to your momma. After all, she should understand your lividity regarding her decision to remove you from her Netflix account. That being said, I find no need for external entertainment due to the weekly amusement I receive from your amazingly discernable arguments. Personally, I think you owe your mom an apology. She still pays your phone bill.

4. I’ve already seen the Marvel movies. I don’t need to hear them again.

I’m not all about that bass. In case you are unaware, your subwoofers are so state-of-the-art that their ability to project every pulsing action scene has transcended both my ceiling and tolerance alike. With consideration to my buzzing walls and trembling water glass, I applaud your ability to nearly capture the attention of the Richter scale. Tom Holland isn’t the only one who doesn’t feel so good by the end of Infinity War.

There you have it: my five theses. I have no problem nailing them to your door if that would help. My apologies if I come off as complacent. I’m simply articulating the thoughts that every individual ever plagued with the chance to live beneath you has ever contemplated.